


and the cold, it will devour us

by Magepaw



Series: lucilius is the worst [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mild Sexual Content, Omega Verse, One-Sided Attraction, Scents & Smells, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Warning: Belial (Granblue Fantasy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magepaw/pseuds/Magepaw
Summary: pre-rebellion canon divergence where the astral caste system is instead the a/b/o dynamics, which then affects how lucilius constructs lucifer and belial, which then shapes sandalphon.
Relationships: Belial/Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: lucilius is the worst [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880200
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	and the cold, it will devour us

**Author's Note:**

> pre-rebellion canon divergence where the astral caste system is instead the a/b/o dynamics, which then affects the building of the first primal beasts. or, a faasan story where you're born in the wrong body, everything is miserable, aaand then you take it out on everyone around you :) 
> 
> MIND THE TAGS. implied lucisan pining but if you want something fun and sexy this is NOT it, no one has a good time, except maybe belial who is a content warning all of his own. title from [the void](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztnEjj5WW8k).

The core was cool and inert beneath Lucilius's gloves as he pressed it into waiting flesh. True fire anima. Red sky at dawn. Wood smoke. Blood orange. Smoldering coals. Amber resin. As it hummed to life, glowing under the harsh light of the laboratory chamber, the smoky aroma grew stronger. Lucilius had already moved on.

True wind anima. Storm clouds gathering on a distant horizon. Pine needles. Sharp ozone, burning his nostrils. Cinnamon and clove. Lucilius’s thoughts grew restless, unfocused, oncoming headache dulling the sharp blade of his wit. Even for an Astral, Lucilius had always been particularly sensitive to scents. As a leading expert in the field of pheromone research and its applications in primal beasts, it was among the most useful tools at his disposal — he could make note of minute differences in compounds, track every shift in a test subject’s status, and most satisfying of all, leave his unobservant colleagues in the dust. 

Lucilius’s breakthroughs in synthesizing aggregation pheromone receptors into primal cores led him to heading his own division, the only omega ever offered such a _lofty_ honor. The council were all close-minded traditionalists who could barely follow his proposals let alone appreciate his genius, yet they seemed to believe he owed them respect due to their superior genetic material. Fools. His research would not be hindered by something as trivial as reproductive organs. 

Still, though he was loathe to admit it, his own bodily reactions were more difficult to regulate than those of his creations. He scribbled an angry note in the margins to increase his stimulants. He could deal with a high heart rate if it took the edge off the migraines.

Next. True earth anima. Petrichor. Freshly exposed red clay. Oak moss. Sheer cliffs dropping off into empty sky. Leather and musk. Lucilius’s nails tapped an impatient rhythm on his clipboard as he waited for the wave of pressure behind his eyes to subside. This was taking time he did not have to waste.

The frames he was working on were incomplete – supple hide stretched from floor to ceiling, ribcage open for ease of access to the rainbow of organs spooled at its center. The vascular system was strung like ribbons from points all over the walls leading back to the softly pulsating core. Primals were tools to be used, receiving no appreciation for the subtlety with which Lucilius stitched their materials together, giving an abstract concept physical form; feather by feather, cartilage to bone, axon to dendrite, elemental particles and chemical signals and countless, countless hours of labor.

True water anima. Sunrise at the beach. Peach blossom. Melting snow. Vetiver. Pink scallop shell. Sea salt. The sickly-sweet odor released was alluring like nectar to entice an insect, tickling unpleasantly at the back of his throat, making him salivate. Lucilius yanked his hand away from the core as though he had been burned.

An unwanted physical response stirred low in his stomach, syrupy-warm and uncomfortably close to obsequiousness. His legs shifted restlessly, pressing together. He had deadlines to meet and no time for this nonsense.

"Belial," he snapped.

In a flash, Belial was at his side with the supply kit. His assistant was never far, even when they were both working. In one deft movement, Lucilius selected a syringe and jabbed it into his thigh. His expression barely flickered at the familiar sting. Belial hummed in low appreciation, hungry eyes following his every movement. 

The primarchs he was building were coded with beta receptors, as the council had dictated they should; a beta would obey an alpha instinctively without _complications_ , and obedience was all they cared about. The flood of synthetic hormones had triggered Lucilius’s overactive senses, mistaking the scent for that of a willing Astral. Overloading his receptors with conflicting signals was the best way to jam their effects, if temporary, so this was the inelegant solution he had settled on.

"You should rest, Faa-san," Belial said as he snapped the kit shut. "Keep riding your body this hard, and this will happen more often."

Lucilius curled his lip in disapproval.

Belial hovered too close over his shoulder, protective, longing, all the while carefully masking his scent into bland nothingness. But Belial never deigned to touch when Lucilius was having an episode. He knew when Lucilius's nerves were strung this tight that he might lose the hand he touched with.

"I'll rest after the deadline," Lucilius finally relented. He stalked off, Belial trailing after him like a second shadow.

"Keeping it all pent up like that… it's gonna be one hell of a release, you know."

"Cease your useless prattling and finish building those cradles."

"Mm, love it when you crack the whip," Belial purred. "Now tell me I've been naughty."

"Imbecile. I should have you decommissioned for parts. Then at least I'll get some use out of you."

"As long as you do it slowly so I can enjoy you taking me apart," Belial chuckled as he sauntered back to the empty incubators.

Silence fell back into place, and with it, relief. The clamoring odors ebbed back to a level he could control. He had long learned to leave nothing up to chance when it came to this body. Lucilius kept an emergency syringe kit on his person, and more stashed about his office and quarters, in case Belial was otherwise occupied. His natural resistance to suppressants continued to rise, but he would simply up the dosage to combat that.

It was annoying enough to deal with synthetic beta signals in his laboratory, let alone the deep unpleasantness of reporting to the alphas on the council. Which he would have to do as soon as this project was complete. Pity he wasn't allowed to send Belial in his stead. Belial might actually enjoy being leered at.

There was only one alpha that Lucilius tolerated, and it was the only one he had ever built.

* * *

Lucifer was his masterpiece. The tranquility of the garden not only suited Lucifer's nature, it seemed to amplify it — he exuded the calming scent of flowers himself, lily and rose, cyclamen and lavender. Sunlight lingered golden along the delicate spray of pale eyelashes, making shadows dance along the curve of high cheekbones. Lucilius's fingers twitched as he remembered carving and fitting those bones himself.

“My friend, are you well? You seem... distracted,” Lucifer murmured politely. 

Lucifer's slender fingers shifted subtly around the rim of his cup as he gazed at Lucilius, glaring sharply back. Lucifer's gentle eyes were the soft blue of the sky, hair and plumage the untarnished white of clouds. Lucilius had scrapped many inferior shades of blue before finding the exact hue he held in his mind's eye.

“I’m fine,” Lucilius snapped. 

He was not. His thoughts clamored, mind racing in too many directions at once. He grimly ticked off a checklist in his mind: febrile, palms clammy, resting pulse too high for his liking as the blockers wore off. He needed something stronger in order to remain focused around the sheer intensity of Lucifer’s aura. It was hard to look away from such exalted beauty.

Lucifer, of course, remained oblivious to the effect he had on his creator. “Perhaps coffee was not the wisest choice of beverage for me to offer you,” Lucifer noted. “It appears your hands are trembling. Shall I prepare herbal tea?” 

“It’s not your responsibility. Sleep has eluded me for some time now,” Lucilius grudgingly admitted. He sipped his coffee anyway, bitter and black on his tongue. “Have the primarchs served you well? Are they fulfilling their purpose?"

"Of course," Lucifer assured him, mild concern smoothing into neutrality. "They are diligent in their roles."

"You had some other purpose in inviting me here today, did you not?” Lucilius probed.

He was now distracted by the texture of his robes rubbing against his skin, and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. He felt uncomfortably aware of his own body, underweight and undersized, too many curves where there should be angles. Imperfections.

Lucifer nodded and reached out to clasp his hand, a genuine smile brightening his countenance. Lucilius stilled. Warmth blossomed from the contact through his gloves, far too intense for casual touch.

He did not pull away.

It was strangely disarming to exist within the sphere of calmness Lucifer exuded — which was everything Lucilius had designed him to be, of course; a charismatic figure of authority, gentle but powerful, flowers masking cold steel. Lucifer was everything an alpha _should_ be, everything the council couldn’t stand: a primal beast that could not be controlled by them. 

Lucifer was perfect. 

“My project is complete. I wanted you to be the first to meet him." Lucifer made a gesture for a nearby figure to emerge and approach their table. "It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Sandalphon.” 

The sensation of warmth vanished as abruptly as it had bloomed. The chair clattered noisily behind him as Lucilius stood to face Lucifer's newborn.

The small angel stood on shaky legs, innocent eyes wide and shining with some mixture of defiance and humiliation and desperate hope. His wings were out, fluttering nervously, weak and drab and brown as dirt. He was wreathed in the pure scents of lily and rose like his maker, but sullied with the sharpness of sandalwood, the bitterness of coffee, the servility of _omega_. 

“Ah,” Lucilius said. 

Sandalphon shrank back at the sight of Lucilius, and cowered behind the safe haven of Lucifer's wings. Bile rose at the back of his throat. Lucilius decided he no longer cared for the aroma of coffee, and pushed his cup disdainfully aside.

"Is there a problem with his construct?" Lucifer asked. He had correctly read the displeasure that darkened Lucilius's expression, but incorrectly guessed its source. "He does not speak yet, but he will grow quickly. I believe he has great promise."

Lucifer had made this creation to his own exact specifications, a completion of his biology, a fulfillment of his subconscious desire. Something clenched deep in Lucilius's gut, pulsating and sick.

"He is omega," Lucilius hissed, low and dangerous. "He is not fit to lead."

"But my friend," Lucifer interjected, gentle smile playing on his lips. "You do. I wanted him to be like you."

* * *

Belial flipped through the stack of paperwork, humming something tuneless and annoying as he made himself at home in the sanctity of Lucilius's office. Lucilius rubbed his temples, trying to stave off his latest headache.

"All these tests you're running on Lucifer's pet," Belial mused aloud. "Are you that obsessed with his power output? His core seems pretty standard. Nothing compared to Lucifer's. Potential for growth, sure, but only through exposure. Guess he's a grower, not a shower."

"Of course he's no replacement for Lucifer," Lucilius snapped.

Belial could never just read silently without adding his own commentary, it seemed. What a nuisance. Red eyes narrowed to slits, but at least Belial knew better than to argue.

"These hormone readouts seem high though," he commented after a moment. Belial flipped to the next chart, cunning gaze bright with curiosity. "He's more volatile than the other primarchs. Unstable. Seems like he'd be a fun toy to play with, until he breaks, anyway..."

Lucilius leveled a frosty glare at him, but Belial pretended not to notice. The primal made a show of lounging against Lucilius's chair, licking his lips with anticipation.

"Are you going to install him with limiters? Pump him full of beta hormones to level him out?"

"Neither. An omega test subject provides useful data. He's of more use to me unaltered."

"Leaving a high strung little virgin around _Lucifer's_ scent all day?" A fanged sneer tugged at the corners of Belial's mouth. "That's cold, Faa-san. He's gonna blow at any second. Could it be you're leaving him to suffer so you have more excuses to stick him with needles?"

Lucilius chose not to dignify this with a response.

"Oho…? Am I right?" Belial pressed gleefully. "Are you gonna cut him open just to see what makes him tick? Or should I say… what makes him slick?"

Lucilius snatched the papers away from him before the lecherous beast drooled on them.

"…Won't kill him," he muttered under his breath.

Belial cackled with delight. "You're such a sadist, Faa-san, it's turning me on! You can put holes in me any time you want—"

"A pointless endeavor. I already know everything inside of you," Lucilius replied.

He rose from his chair and hooked a finger under the collar of Belial's pristine white uniform. Belial shivered, eager pleasure contorting his face into an ugly leer as he was dragged along in Lucilius's wake.

"Come. We have work to do."

* * *

Lucilius and Belial stood alone on the upper deck, thoroughly unimpressed by the bustle of activity they were supervising.

The Astral research team scurried to and fro along the observation floor beneath them, hauling refuse and hosing away the dubious fluids that now stained the concrete. The sedatives had finally taken effect on the massive primal beast they had been tasked with taking into containment, but not before it had managed to trample and gore several of their own. Their ineptitude had cost him a day's research, and now he would need additional replacements for the ones who failed to survive. Useless.

The door behind them swung open without a knock of warning. Lucilius's writing quill snapped in his hand. If it had been anyone else besides—

“I’m sorry to burden you with this, my friend. I know you are already busy." Lucifer’s arm was draped protectively over Sandalphon's shoulders, steering him reluctantly into the small room. Sandalphon was trembling and weak-kneed against Lucifer’s side, color drained from his small face. His wings curled around himself like a shield. "As you see, I require your experience in these matters, and your… discretion.” 

Lucilius seethed with barely constrained rage at the pathetic sight. Belial had predicted correctly, damn him.

_The spare was going into heat._

A dizzying wave of heightened omega and alpha crashed over Lucilius at once. His head reeled, his stomach lurching in violent rejection. Lucilius had a desperate need for the sterility of his private quarters, obsessively clean and controlled and perfectly odorless. The spare should have been beta or given no assignment at all, but thanks to Lucifer this was everyone's problem to deal with. It was a pointless facsimile of estrus, even though none of the primals were fertile. Lucilius stabbed the broken quill shaft into his own leg, the bright flash of pain giving him a point to focus on.

“Don't touch him,” Lucilius snarled. 

Lucifer jerked back as though Lucilius had stabbed him instead. 

Sandalphon bit back a humiliated whimper as he struggled to stand unaided, hood pulled up to obscure his face. His trembling thighs pressed together, hiding the telltale damp patch between them. As if Lucilius couldn't smell it from a mile away. Somewhere nearby, Belial let out a confused moan, wings spilling out in a rush of black as his own doubly-potent reaction shuddered through him.

“I wanted to offer my support, but perhaps it would be easier for you if I were not present, Sandalphon,” Lucifer said, expression going distant.

Lucifer clearly had no idea what he had created, nor how to fix it. But Lucilius did not miss the flush in his cheeks, the dilation in his pallid pupils. The alpha instincts were affecting him more than he showed. What Lucifer lacked was the awareness to understand what his desire meant, or how to act on it. His heightened scent rolled off him in waves, oppressive, possessive, longing.

It was more than just an odor — it was pressure, an overwhelming aura choking the very air from his lungs. Lucilius struggled just to breathe.

“Leave him. You should return to your duties,” Lucilius commanded with all the authority he could still muster, ignoring the spare's flutter of distress. His eyes were brittle chips of ice as he glared up at the alpha, daring him to defy his creator's orders. "Your scent is only aggravating his condition. This will require a series of injections to suppress the heat. They will be administered every several hours, until the contractions are spaced further apart. He will be kept here under observation, to avoid… complications.” 

“Don’t leave me here,” Sandalphon pleaded quickly. His frantic gaze darted between Belial and Lucilius, clearly looking for an escape route. He found none.

Lucifer sighed, letting his eyes close. Acquiescence. “I shall leave him in your capable hands, then. Sandalphon, you will obey Lucilius in my absence.” 

Sandalphon was stunned speechless as he faced the pair, his fists balled at his sides. He could not disobey a direct order, but it was clear he would rather have been ordered to swallow broken glass.

By contrast, Lucifer was visibly relieved that everything was now under control. "Please take care of him," he murmured to Lucilius.

Then he quietly slipped out the door, careful to close it behind him. Gravity in the room seemed to shift around his absence, the heaviness dissipating from the air. A beat passed in silence as the three of them all tried to regain their balance in the alpha's wake.

Lucilius curled his lip at the pathetic omega, who shrank back with nowhere to hide.

“You’re a liar!" Brown feathers puffed up defensively, teeth bared, eyes flashing. "You don't need me here. You just want to keep me away from Lucifer!” 

Belial was the first to react, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The acrid scent of omega fear made Lucilius’s nose crinkle with disgust. Alarm pheromones were little more than a warning against potential predators, and Lucilius did not fear this brat. 

“You should be grateful, omega," Lucilius snapped. His cold disinterest had dissolved into acid. "It’s only as a personal favor to Lucifer that I’m helping you. Restrain him."

Belial moved in the blink of an eye. Strong hands clamped down on the base of Sandalphon’s wings to keep him firmly anchored to the ground. The skittish primal cried out in blind panic, wings beating hard against Belial’s unforgiving grip.

"Easy, Sandy," Belial chuckled, fangs scraping against the nape of Sandalphon's neck. "These little wings can be so delicate. Would be a shame if anything happened your pinion feathers."

“Don’t touch me! Let me go!" Sandalphon screamed. His narrow chest heaved as he gasped for air, kicking and writhing to try and twist out of Belial's hold. "Lucifer, help me—" 

"Lucifer can't hear you," Belial growled, leathery wings rising in challenge.

At once, Belial's carefully masked scent suddenly billowed unrestrained into the confines of the observation deck. The swirling of sweet vanilla and patchouli and musk. The intoxicating rush of giving in to temptation. Red carnation, the color of lust and blood. Black clouds swallowing the light of the moon, leaving true darkness in its wake. The scent was just as potent as Lucifer's had been, drowning out everything in the chamber. Lucilius was intensely aware of the weight of the syringe in his pocket, but he could not reach for it in front of the spare.

Lucilius watched impassively as the resistance bled out of Sandalphon, his wild flailing slowing to a confused halt. They were not alike. This was a sparrow, doomed in the coils of a serpent. 

"Isn't it easier to just give in," Belial crooned in his ear, sliding one hand free of his wing to push him down onto his knees. Sandalphon's back pressed against Belial’s firm chest as they sank to the floor, brown wings tucking in along the curve of his back in submission. Sandalphon was shivering, anxious heart thrumming so fast even Lucilius could hear it.

"You get it now, don't you?" Belial's tongue darted out, licking a wet stripe along the sensitive skin at the corner of Sandalphon's jaw. The spare made a feeble whimper, eyes shining with desperation, but all the fight in him had vanished. "Lucifer doesn't care what happens to you. That's why he left you with us."

Disgusting. As much as he pined for Lucifer, the spare would be just as satisfied to be mounted by Belial.

Granted, it was proof of his superior design — Belial was the perfect beta as a foil to Lucifer, the perfect alpha. Belial was malleable, manipulative, capable of hiding his scent entirely, functioning as both alpha and omega as the situation called for it. It was no flaw in Sandalphon’s biology that he’d fall for Belial’s seduction, same as everyone else did. It seemed Belial was just as eager to oblige him, though whether it was for his own amusement or specifically to spite Lucifer remained to be seen. It was useful data to observe charm in action, though.

Sandalphon abruptly stiffened with a pained cry as the spell was broken. His back arched, bucking off Belial’s overbearing weight. If Belial was the coils of the serpent, then Lucilius was the bite, plunging the syringe pitilessly into Sandalphon’s exposed throat.

Sandalphon scrambled out of their reach, half-dashing, half-flying to the far corner of the small room. He glowered at them from a distance, hand clamped over his bleeding neck, quivering all over. 

“Feisty one, huh?” Belial chuckled. He wiped his hand across his lip, leaving a smear of blood from where Sandalphon’s wings clipped him. “Are you gonna put up a fight each time we have to stick you? Not that I mind — it’s more fun when you struggle, Sandy.” 

“Get him in a holding cell," Lucilius hissed, turning on his heel. "Use whatever means you have to. I have more important work to attend to than babysitting."

Repulsive, all of it. Lucilius drew a shuddering breath through his sleeve, facing away from the primal beasts to hide his revulsion. The swirling mess of pheromones trapped in the small room was overwhelming, but he refused to show weakness in front of the likes of Sandalphon. He would never be caught in such a pitiful state—

“Should I report to you after?” Belial's worried voice cut through his reverie, a momentary distraction. Belial always noticed.

“No. You're dismissed,” Lucilius snapped, a second late. This close, the burgeoning scent of Belial’s pseudo-alpha arousal was causing something to stir, warmth unfurling deep and low, languid and frustrating. His hands clenched into fists, hidden under the sleeves of his robes. He needed blockers, fast. “Find some other way to amuse yourself. I don’t care if you make a mess so long as you clean it up.” 

Belial’s grin was lascivious, all fangs and tongue and the promise of cruelty. “Thank you, Faa-san,” he purred. His sharp stare lingered a little too long on Sandalphon. "We're going to have fun together, you and me."

Lucilius was down the hallway before the door even closed. 

* * *

Once he was out of the labs and locked in the solitude of his quarters, Lucilius leaned his shaky weight against the door for support. The injections were failing. As his legs gave out beneath him, he slowly sank to the floor amid scattered notes and discarded blueprints. He dug his fingers into his sides to hold himself together, but pain was no longer enough of a distraction.

_Being touched by perfect hands in a perfect garden. Alpha. Violation. Corruption._

The discordant scents still crawled along his skin, seeping under his gloves and into his robes and infecting his wretched body with their poison. He could not be free of them, even here. His breathing turned harsh, each rattling inhale sticking sharp in his lungs like needles. His head was pounding, mind flooded with invasive imagery, overriding his senses.

_Piercing eyes a little too blue for comfort. Flowing hair strung gold like liquid sunlight. Long fingers gliding against bare skin, lovingly, possessively. The wrong face, the wrong body. Rejection, rejection._

His fingernails drew blood wherever they dug in, but it wasn't enough to ground him in reality. Lucilius fought down the vivid desire to take a scalpel and flense his own skin. If he peeled it off strip by strip, calculated and clean, maybe then he would shed the phantom touches he still carried, the disjointed memories of a life that was not his own.

_Not made for him. Never again. Lucilius completed no one._

* * *

Lucilius glowered at the robed silhouette cautiously approaching him with the clipboard. The lights were too bright, making his eyes water. The unpleasant reek of bleach and sanitizer fluid burned his nostrils. Every noise in this wing of the building was several times too loud, grating on his frayed nerves.

“You're stabilized for now. But I cannot condone this procedure, especially in your current state of health,” the researcher began carefully. She knew his experimental proposal had already been rejected by the council as unethical to perform on Astrals — as if ethics had ever been a concern of theirs, oh, he knew _exactly_ why they vetoed an omega's autonomy — but Lucilius knew what strings to pull, and how hard to pull them.

“Your unsolicited opinion is meaningless." Lucilius hunched tighter on the cold steel of the table, wrongness of his shapes exposed without voluminous garments to conceal them.

The pre-heat contractions had not ceased since the _incident_ , no matter how many drugs he had pumped into himself to stave off the looming threat. The relentless throbbing drove him back into wakefulness every time he attempted to rest. Concentration was nearly impossible now, and his work was suffering for it. His was a careless construction built with the wrong parts, but that did not mean he had to endure the indignity of this anatomy.

“Even a full removal will leave behind trace cells, which will regenerate over time. You know as well as I do the healing capacity of the Astral body. You would delay this, but it will come back, possibly with further complications.” Her tone was a measured calm, her eyes warily tracking his every movement.

"I require only the equipment I outlined, and your silence,” Lucilius hissed, catching her by the wrist to drive the threat home. She flinched, averting her eyes from his hollowed, manic glare. "You will fake the emergency evacuation on the date and time I specified, and alert me when the medical bay is completely empty. I'll handle the rest. And if any member of the council finds out I was even in the building, I will personally see to it that you are transferred to primal beast research and development as a guinea pig."

This close the ambitious researcher smelled of disinfectant and linens and the clean, neutral scent that pheromone blockers left her with, something soured by her growing fear. She was a beta, but a lower ranking one, and she was scared of him. Compliance could spell immunity for an otherwise expendable pawn. Her life hung in the balance either way.

She hesitated, then nodded. Ethics.

* * *

The bowels of the research facility were a veritable nightmare of sensory overload. Lucilius, as always, came fully prepared. His head was ringing from the headache and the noise, but he was riding an overdose that left him pleasantly numb to the effects of the scents that hung thick in the stale air. The clanging and clashing in the holding cells had not abated, nor had the reeking stench of their frenzy. The primal beasts in containment were rampaging, driven mad by the proximity of a vulnerable omega's pheromones.

Not _his_ , of course.

Belial paused to admire the chaos, hand on chin. He hummed appreciatively at the raking claws and slavering jaws that snapped at him through the bars, eager for a taste of anything they could reach.

"Good to see he can get 'em all hot and bothered," Belial commented, eyes gleaming red through the low light of the corridor. "They look ready to riot."

Lucilius shoved the clipboard at his chest to keep him focused. If Belial got too excited by the pheromone cloud and decided to engage them, he would make a terrible mess, and it would take forever to scrub the blood off the floors and ceiling. They were already behind schedule thanks to his miserable appointment.

Sandalphon cowered in the far corner of his solitary cell, hugging his knees to his chest. The reek still clung to his woefully tattered garments, stained and soaked through. Some clarity and color had returned to his countenance, though a thin sheen of sweat betrayed his status. Red eyes flashed with fury as Lucilius and Belial entered. He was responding to treatment, and growing more resistant to Belial's charms, which made him more difficult to handle.

"How much longer must I be trapped here! Where is Lucifer," Sandalphon spat.

"You caused him a lot of trouble," Belial drawled. "It's better for you to stay out of his way, isn't it?"

"He's on a mission," Lucilius stated. The truth. Probably. He was not in the mood to deal with attitude. "Hold out your arm."

Sandalphon's aggressive posture wilted, wings dragging limp along the dirty floor. He passively allowed a strap to be tightened around his bare arm as Lucilius swabbed his skin with disinfectant. Belial hovered near the door, insurance in case the primal tried to bolt yet again.

"Why hasn't he come to get me," Sandalphon whispered, more to himself than towards Lucilius.

"He has far more important matters to attend to than the likes of you," Lucilius stated matter-of-factly. "Make a fist."

Sandalphon flinched as the needle jabbed into his arm with more force than necessary.

"Look what you made me do," Lucilius chided. "Stop fidgeting or you'll make me miss again."

"Clumsy, Faa-san," Belial smirked from his vantage point. "Maybe you should go for the jugular."

Sandalphon's defiant glare could have melted the steel bars that contained him. He went rigid, but did not move, and soon the small vial filled dark between Lucilius's fingers. They fell silent as they watched his blood flow, and listened to the screaming of the primals rampaging in the cells around them. The scent of fresh blood only riled them further.

"Subject is moody, possibly due to hormonal levels rising again," Lucilius commented. "Begin series two injections."

Belial obediently made a note on the clipboard, and opened the supply case.

"I'm not _moody_ ," Sandalphon bristled, glowering at them both. "This place is horrible! I hate it here and I demand to go back to the garden. I want to be with Lucifer!"

"Your feelings of attraction are mere chemical reactions. The condition will pass with treatment, which is why Lucifer brought you here. To fix it." Lucilius labeled the sample and slipped it into the case. He unwound the tourniquet, continuing coolly, "Omega pheromones and the effect they produce in receptive alphas are solely for the purposes of reproduction. In a primal beast, it is a pointless function encoded only to be exploited. You are a defect."

"Defective? You're saying all of this is some big mistake?" Sandalphon spluttered. Humiliation stung his cheeks red.

"Well, it's not entirely pointless," Belial chuckled, gesturing toward the other holding cells. "It makes for good entertainment. Listen to them all howling for you."

"What purpose was I built for, then?" Sandalphon snapped. "What do you even mean by reproduction?"

"Oh, sweet innocent Sandy," Belial sighed in mockery. He reached out to pat Sandalphon's cheek patronizingly. "I could tell you all about breeding if you want, but a hands-on lesson will be more—"

Belial's fingers narrowly avoided the snap of teeth.

"Don't you ever touch me again, bastard," Sandalphon snarled, small frame trembling with rage.

Belial's slow smile promised nothing.

"Astrals have organic bodies that function differently from yours," Lucilius interrupted stiffly. He had no patience for bickering. "Combining the genetic material of two higher organisms creates biological offspring. Your inorganic body lacks genetic material, therefore your heat serves no purpose."

"Is that what _you_ want, then? Because you're an Astral omega?" Sandalphon shot back.

Lucilius went cold as ice.

"What did you just say," he whispered, disbelieving his ears. It was as though all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room, and he was left suspended in the black vacuum of space.

Sandalphon's glare was bright with challenge. Beside him, Belial held his breath, remaining uncharacteristically silent.

"I could smell it on you," Sandalphon announced, undaunted. "In the garden. And in that room. Whenever you're near Lucifer."

"No," Lucilius seethed. His hands were shaking.

"You're no better than me. An omega who wants an alpha."

Through clenched teeth, Lucilius's voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "You and I have nothing in common. How dare you imply—"

"Is that why you build primal beasts?" Sandalphon pressed, emboldened by the reaction he was getting. "To create offspring? You're an omega, so your purpose is—"

The clipboard smashed against the wall, papers flying. Lucilius blazed with cold fury, quivering from head to toe. Sandalphon scrabbled back into his corner, eyes bulging with animal fear as the wave of murderous intent crashed down on him. Were it not for Lucifer's wish, Lucilius would have torn him limb from limb until he was nothing but a core, a speck of dust, a scrap to be crushed beneath his heel.

"Do not ever speak to me of purposes again, omega," Lucilius raged. "Belial! Cancel my plans. We will conduct a combat capability test immediately. Take the subject to the observation floor."

"What are you doing," Sandalphon blustered, wings beating in distress as Belial advanced on him. "I can't fight right now, not like this! I'm not—"

"You have combat ability and you certainly seem like you have energy to burn," Lucilius sneered. "I see no issue."

"Nasty, Faa-san," Belial remarked, dark smile playing on his lips. Black wings spread wide, filling the chamber, blotting out the light behind him. "What will all those big, bad beasts do to poor little Sandy? They haven't stopped screaming for him since I dragged him down here… Should be quite a show."

"You're not even going to give me a weapon? A change of clothes?!" Sandalphon pounded his fist against the wall, voice cracking in frustration. "You don't even care if they rip me to pieces, do you! Lucifer said I could trust you!"

"That's not my problem," Lucilius said flatly as he walked away.

* * *

All the exits in the deserted medical bay were sealed. Curtains were pulled over every window. Lucilius exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to gather his drifting thoughts into focus. There would be no interruptions. His research team would have their hands full with cleanup for hours, if they ever succeeded in restraining Sandalphon. They had pulled some useful data on regenerative capabilities after all, which satisfied Lucilius. It had been an amusing diversion.

The lights in the operating room were too bright, but this, at least, was necessary to endure. Lucilius's fingers splayed along the soft skin of his lower belly, pulling the skin taut and marking the proposed point of entry with a slash of ink. He had too many enemies in the council to trust an Astral doctor with this.

"Y'know, by now anyone else would have just dealt with this the old fashioned way," Belial mused. "Lock yourself in your bedroom for a week, let nature run its course, and remember to drink plenty of water in between rounds."

"Disgusting," Lucilius retorted. "I refuse to be held hostage by my own organs."

His hand was clumsier than he willed it to be, as the intravenous cocktail was dulling his response time. He wanted to strike the right balance between numbing the sensation and not knocking himself fully unconscious, but he suspected Belial had slipped a hefty dose of sedatives into the drip while he had disrobed. Useless assistant.

His pulse was slowing, awareness going fuzzy at the edges as the colors blurred. The room gently swayed back and forth, lights dimming as the anesthetic took over. Belial gently moved his hands back to his sides, and coaxed him to lay back on the pillow. Lucilius's pale eyelashes fluttered as he fought to remain alert.

"Just lay on your back and let me take care of you," Belial hummed. "I can't wait to be inside you. So hot, so wet…"

Lucilius sat up with difficulty and began to yank the tube from the back of his hand, so that he could strangle Belial with it.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're too cute like this, Faa-san," Belial laughed, easing his shoulders down again. He rearranged the sheet for modesty's sake, thoughtfully covering up the parts of Lucilius he didn't need to see. "Have you considered adding some new parts to replace it? Maybe that would block the regeneration… Your body wouldn't reject synthetic organs with enough immune suppression. Although, then you'd just be switching from one kind of suppressant dependency to another, huh."

"Primal core," Lucilius mumbled. His thoughts were like ropes of syrup, slow and melted together as he struggled to separate them into coherent sentences. "Body will reject… without core fusion. No good."

Belial was holding his hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb against Lucilius's knuckles. Lucilius could barely perceive it. Dimly he was aware that Belial was rambling with the intent to distract him, but he lacked the presence to resist.

"Yeah, yeah, you Astrals and your organic bodies. It would take a lot of extra materials to fuse you with a primal without killing you outright, but. It's food for thought, isn't it? Imagine, Faa-san with a set of wings… what a handsome sight that would be. I'm getting hot just thinking about it."

Lucilius huffed a weak laugh. What a simple-minded fool. It was the last thing he could remember before the darkness took him.

* * *

Lucilius woke to the alien sensation of fingers stroking his hair. For a brief, disoriented moment, Lucilius thought he was back in the garden, but the hands on him were different. His bleary gaze was unfocused, and could make no sense of the colors swirling around him. A tinge of anxiety soured his drowsy stupor. Was he safe, or had he been rendered defenseless?

He attempted to sit up, but his limbs were detached, nerveless. Dead weight. His pulse was slow. He could not muster the will to move even his fingers. He was still under heavy sedation, then. How long had he been out? Had his absence been noticed?

"Good morning, Faa-san," crooned a familiar voice.

Lucilius relaxed again. His eyes closed, but he drew a deep breath to try and scent where he was. His head buzzed on a pleasant high note. Sweet vanilla with the spice of cloves. Carnation petals, wet with dew. A starless night, black velvet sky inviting him into its inky depths. He drew another deep inhale, drawn to the perfume. Belial's pseudo-omega scent was simpering sweet on his tongue, drowning out the markers of where he was.

Lucilius opened his mouth to demand answers, but his tongue was useless cotton. He croaked, the most noise he could muster, voice cracking into a cough.

Cool hands gently lifted his head from the pillow, guiding his lips to a glass of water. He sipped weakly, lacking the strength to resist.

"There, take it slow," Belial murmured. "You'll heal fast, but don't overdo it right now unless you want all your guts to spill out of that hole. Do you need painkillers? How do you feel?"

Belial's scent was rich, drowning his dazed senses. His lower belly ached with a dull throb where he could feel the weight of a bandage tugging at his skin, but otherwise did not respond.

"Cold," he decided.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. That was all he felt. The contractions were gone.

Belial's deep voice rumbled a chuckle. "I can fix that too," he promised.

Lucilius was fairly certain now he was in his own bed. The blankets tucked around him were clean and odorless from disuse. The mattress dipped where Belial sat, smoothing the hair back from his forehead to check his temperature.

Mindful not to jostle him, Belial then lay down, fitting his large body against Lucilius's side and draping one arm across his slight chest. Even through the cocoon of blankets, it was more contact than Lucilius generally allowed. Belial had earned this small reward after his performance with the scalpel, though. His assistant had clever hands and intimate knowledge of anatomy. Lucilius would permit him this small transgression, while he was still in a rare good mood. This would be their secret, after all.

Belial thrummed with warmth, his dark core pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat. He nuzzled his face into Lucilius's shoulder, needy as always, and Lucilius sighed softly, tucking his nose into Belial's soft hair to breathe his scent. Nuisance. Then he slumped back into the pillow for a long-awaited sleep. He would return to work tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> shout-out to ellie-danchou for telling me i had to write this myself and now you all have to deal with this dead bird i left on her porch~


End file.
